Ties that Bind
by retln8
Summary: The Vhenadhal stands vigilant within the Alienage waiting, until a young, broken girl is found at its roots, tying itself to her destiny.


_Vhenadahl_

_Standing over the Alienage_

_Holding court over our daily lives_

_Sorrow, Joy, Life and Death_

_Silent witness to our trials_

* * *

She lay curled and broken at the base of the tree. Her innocence shattered and leaking out from between her legs. Ten years old, tainted with the seed of man, she cries onto the roots of the Vhenadahl and the tree blankets her, covering her shame, with brightly colored leaves. A new crack in the trunk weeps sap as the Vhenadahl cried for another broken soul. The elder finds her thus, and rages at the unknown man who had once again dragged a small elven child from the safety of her home for his pleasure. His eyes widen as sparks of magic flicker to life from her fingertips. The tree shivered in response.

The child's lashes fluttered gently, and she opened her eyes to gaze at her elder. 'I'm so sorry, sweetling,' he thought. Valendrian looked into the violet depths of her overlarge eyes, her pain echoed in his. Her arms reached up for him, knowing him, begging for succor. There was a flash first in the plum abyss and then a shower of autumn leaves. The tree as well as the child were begging for comfort. He settled at the Vhenadhal's roots and opened his arms. The child crawled painfully into his arms, her eyes tightened, knowing that part of him was much like the violator but a spirit drove her on, separating the child from her thoughts, her memories.

The elder, Valendrian, cradled the child in his arms and cried with her. He smoothed the auburn curls on the child's head and considered his next step. The Chantry and Templars would need to be told. First, though, he would clean her up, not to hide the evidence but to spare her parents yet one more heartache. Their little girl, their only child to have survived past its third year, would need to be taken away, to the Circle Tower in Kinloch Hold.

"Elder?" The words quivered on her lips, and fear marred her pretty, childish face. Whatever spirit had separated the child from her memories was fading, he had very little time to help her.

"Alisande? What happened?" She needed to speak her nightmares out before she was thrust into a world of more humans. Haltingly she told the elder of how a human man had grabbed her as she was running an errand for her father. The man had torn her pretty dress, one that her mother had worked so hard on. He had pushed her on the ground, dirtying what he had already torn. Then he had ripped her small clothes and pushed her legs apart. She remembered a terrible pain as he fell on her over and over. She had pushed at him, trying to get him to stop. Then the man had left her there as she cried, dirty and sure that her momma would be mad about the dress. Valendrian held her and rocked as the child cried at the memory.

"What about the magic, Alisande? How long have you had it?" He held up her hand as the magic sparked erratically from her fingers. Her eyes slid to the side and he knew she'd been hiding it for a while.

"You know that you have to go to the Tower, sweetheart." Valendrian kissed the top of her head.

"But Momma and Poppa will be so sad if I go." Her tone was so plaintive that Valendrian chuckled humorlessly.

"Come now Alisande, you know that you will never leave the Alienage, not completely. It'll be just like your brothers and sisters that the Maker called to his side." Valendrian's eyes were as gray as his hair, but there was a light within them that reminded the little girl of the leaves of the Vhenadahl. She looked from the elder to the tree and back again. The Elder elf nodded sagely and took a thin sharp knife from his belt. Showing her what he meant, he sliced across his palm, wincing at the sting, and placed the bleeding hand to the tree. The bark of the Vhenadahl pulsed twice, glowing from deep within. When the Elder pulled his hand away, the cut had been fully healed. Smiling, the little girl held out her hand, she made no sound when he slipped his blade across her palm. Stumbling a little and staring at the red liquid staining her hand, she walked to the tree. Reverently, as the Elder had shown her, she flattened her palm against the rough bark. Behind her, Valendrian asked the tree for protection for the child, in her journeys. The little girl repeated each statement, with the same solemnity as the elder.

"Vhenadahl choisant dom (Vhenadahl protect me)

Vhenadahl ardaitheoir mé suas (Vhenadahl lift me up)

Vhenadahl breathnú thar mo (Vhenadahl watch over me)

Vhenadahl éisteacht liom (Vhenadahl hear me)

Vhenadahl a thabhairt dom urlabhra (Vhenadahl give me speech)

Vhenadahl garda dom (Vhenadahl guard me)

Vhenadahl a lorg I sábháilteacht I do arm (Vhenadahl I seek safety in your arms)

Vhenadahl fothain dom (Vhenadahl shelter me)

Vhenadahl liom a dhaingniú (Vhenadahl keep me secure)

Vhenadahl is tú mo baile (Vhenadahl you are my home)"

Valendrian smiled and nodded at the resilience of youth, he could feel the tree healing her hurts, burying her memories deep, taking the sacrifice of blood into itself. When the little girl turned back to him, he could see the golden lights of the Vhenadahl tree sparkling within her violet eyes.

"Now, Alisande, wherever you go, we will be with you. Your sorrows and joys will be ours." The ritual that he had performed with the child should have waited until she was much older, her wedding day at the very least. Sad that he had to witness the loss of innocence, but happy that he was able to bind her to her home, and give her some reassurance that they, the family of the village, would always be with her. "You must clean yourself up as best you can, little one. Then go home, and tell your Mother and Father that a human had witnessed your use of magic and that I must tell the Chantry, to protect us all." She would only have a short time before the Templars would collect her.

She smiled too brightly, but for now the Vhenadhal would protect her from the worst of what would come. Then she ran off to find some relatively clean water in which to right herself. Valendrian watched her go with a heavy heart before walking to the Chantry to let them know about the girl. The tree pulsed in agitation and the Elder smoothed a hand over the bark of the tree, making a promise that she would return to the Alienage, after her time of training was done. Alisande was destined to bring honor to the Alienage, of that both he and the Vhenadahl were sure. The tree shivered and dropped a large branch. Valendrian understood its meaning, the girl might leave today, but when she was a full mage, the Vhendahal would serve as her staff, forever binding them together.


End file.
